Close Your Eyes and Breathe
by crisstianmingle
Summary: Blaine is a 21 year old Communications major at NYU who's planning on going to law school once he's finished. He has lost all sense of himself and is instead living day-to-day for his parents. Enter Kurt, a 19-almost-20 year old art therapy major who just might set Blaine back on his feet. And possibly help himself in the process.
1. Chapter 1

Imagination is the key to a person's ability to move beyond reality. The young child who sees his dog as a dragon, the boxes made into a fort or a home, the books that come alive and draw readers into the yellowed pages of yet another adventure. These and more are a safeguard, an escape, and a way to express one's desire to do the unimaginable, to create a new world that one can alter at any given moment. A secret world that can be shaped and molded into one far more enticing than the real world; beautiful, exotic, and completely one's own. Blaine Anderson was ripped from that world at a very young age, instead bombarded with text books containing facts and numbers. As his intelligence level developed, his imagination was held captive and at the age of twenty one, he no longer looked at the world as an opportunity, but as a responsibility. Sense of adventure left behind, Blaine plowed through school books, keeping his grades pristine to please his parents and now, in his junior year of college, was moving toward a career that was never his choice, but instead an obligation. Blaine Anderson was stuck, and he had no idea how much longer he could take the monotony of his daily life before he eventually was broken beyond repair.

The light streaming from his laptop was giving him a headache, and as he rubbed his strained eyes for what felt like the hundredth time today, he glanced at the clock on his bedside table: 3:00 am, EST. Blaine groaned, flopping backwards onto his bed and cursing himself for putting off this paper until the last minute. He still cannot believe he had let himself be talked into taking seven classes this semester. The workload was beginning to suffocate him, but at least after today he would finally have a free weekend to catch up on all of the sleep he had lost over the last two weeks. He rounded off his latest essay ("What are YOUR beliefs and values of the three major paradigms of Conservative, Liberal and Radical? At least 5 pages and cite your sources") for his Economics class, and quickly e-mailed it to his teacher before shutting his laptop and stretching. He glanced across the room at his snoring roommate before moving to stare out the window at the city he had always dreamed of living in one day, under very different circumstances. He respected lawyers, having grown up with a family full of nothing but. However, he had always hoped he would be living in New York to study music, teaching, something that involved benefitting others while also helping himself. As he got undressed for bed, he pondered over what his life would have been like if he had been more of a rebel like his older brother, who currently lived in L.A. and was trying to make a name for himself. Cooper's name was forbidden in the Anderson household nowadays, but Blaine tried to keep up a steady communication with his brother, despite the fact that he had left Blaine to deal with their parent's crumbling marriage, masked by a façade of fake smiles and forced laughter. No one in Westerville, Ohio went through a divorce without fear of being stripped of his or her "status". Blaine supposed his parents must have been happy at one point in time, but Blaine could not remember it. They continued to be a model of a perfect family, but behind closed doors they were strangers. As Blaine settled against the pillows, covers drawn tight around his body, he tried to imagine what it would be like to have a bit of fun for a change. He found he had no idea what the word "fun" meant at this point.

* * *

Blaine entered his dorm the next day after his last final and deposited his book bag on the floor next to his desk. He had the weekend to himself before he headed home for spring break. Blaine was not thrilled about the idea of spending the upcoming week with his parents, but he supposed it would be better than spending the week here surrounded by insane partygoers. He had just lain down on his bed, hoping to catch a quick nap before his roommate returned from class, when there were several knocks on the door.

"It's unlocked!" Blaine called. The door opened to reveal Quinn Fabray and Mike Chang, two of Blaine's closest friends at NYU.

"Anderson, how was your day?" Mike Chang asked.

"Eh, midterms are over, so that's always a plus."

"Exactly, which is why-" Quinn began.

"No, I'm not going to any parties with you two, not after last time." Blaine responded firmly.

Blaine was surprised he could even remember last time. He had been so drunk Mike had had to carry him back to his dorm, where Blaine spent half the night puking. Blaine had grown up in a very small, rich neighborhood, meaning everyone knew everyone and, consequently, their business as well. Blaine's father had used his alcoholic uncle and a belt to scare Blaine away from participating in any "illegal activities", and once Blaine had gotten to college he had had no idea what his limits were. Even so, he hardly had the time to attend parties, and even if he had time, he turned down nearly every invitation sent his way. Blaine kept to himself, mostly, and he preferred it that way.

"Blaine, come on-"

"It's spring break-"

"There's no way you can spend it shut in your room-"

"You didn't even let us take you out for your twenty first birthday!"

Blaine shook his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips, "Guys, I appreciate the invitation, but I'm not going."

Quinn and Mike looked at each other sadly.

"What are you going to do?" Quinn asked softly.

"Catch up on sleep? I haven't had more than three hours a night in the last two weeks. Plus, I need to pack for Ohio anyway. My plane leaves at 6am on Monday."

Mike scowled at Blaine, folding his arms across his chest before saying "Anderson, I've had enough of this. You have kicked ass at this school for three years now, and you hardly ever give yourself a break. It's a Friday night, the end of midterms, and, most importantly, spring break. You are coming to this party tonight even if I have to drag you there."

"We're not taking no for an answer this time, Blaine." Quinn added.

Blaine groaned, knowing any and all refusals henceforth were futile. "Fine, but at least give me a few hours to sleep?"

"We'll be back here around 10pm. Remember Blaine: I am not afraid to resort to bodily harm."

After the two had left, Blaine lay down against his pillows and stared at the ceiling. What harm could one party do? Blaine would have a few beers, mingle, and then excuse himself early.

"Nothing is going to happen tonight." He told himself firmly.

Oh, how very wrong he was indeed.

The party was in full swing when Blaine arrived with Mike and Quinn. Blaine immediately regretted his decision, but knew there was no way out of it now that he was here. He should have just faked sick when he had the chance, but Mike and Quinn would have seen right through that as well. He sighed, accepting the beer that was handed to him by a very drunk blonde girl who had lipstick smeared across her face and hickeys dotting her neck.

"Hi, my name is Brittany." She slurred.

"I'm Blaine, and this is Mike and Quinn." Blaine said, gesturing to his friends.

"Blaine, do you paint your hair on before you go out?"

"W-what?" Blaine spluttered as Mike and Quinn laughed, moving away to go join in the festivities.

Brittany reached up, stroking Blaine's gelled hair and laughing. "It feels all sticky and wet, kind of like-"

"Brit, there you are! I've been looking for you everywhere!" A Hispanic girl with long, dark brown hair appeared behind Brittany, taking her hand and eyeing Blaine as though she was sizing him up.

"And who are you?"

"Santana, this is my new friend Blaine. His hair is sticky and wet." Brittany said with a giggle.

"Listen, hobbit, Brit is my girlfriend and she's very friendly when she's drunk, so don't even think of trying anything or your balls will find a new home in your esophagus."

"Uh, you don't have to worry about me, I'm like you guys. Gay, I mean." Blaine stammered, inching away from Santana and Brittany.

"Oh, good, then go find some fairy to stick your dick in and stay away from Brit." Santana spat, leading Brittany away.

Blaine sighed, taking a long drink from his beer before moving through the party, trying to locate his friends. He hadn't gotten very far before a tall boy with gelled, dark brown hair and bright green eyes cornered him.

"I don't think we've met. I'm Sebastian Smythe." He said, his voice saturated with arrogance.

"Blaine," Blaine responded, extending a hand. The two men shook, Blaine noticing that Sebastian held on for longer than necessary. He gave Blaine a once over, a smirk playing across his face.

"You look like you could use another drink, Blaine. Follow me." Sebastian said, not even waiting for a response before dragging Blaine toward the kitchen.

The rest of the night was a blur to Blaine. Somehow Sebastian managed to talk him into playing beer pong, and after his tenth beer Blaine lost count. It was almost one in the morning by the time Blaine and Sebastian, who made a surprisingly good beer pong team, finally met their match and decided to head outside for some air.

"So, Blaine, what are did you say you were majoring in?" Sebastian asked, taking a seat on the porch steps and patting the spot next to him for Blaine to sit down.

"I didn't. I-I'm majoring in communications right now b-but I'm going to law school once I'm f-finished with these c-classes." Blaine said in between hiccups, stumbling and almost falling down the porch steps but catching himself on the railing at the last second.

"Well, at least you'll look hot in those suits." Sebastian responded with a smirk before adding, "Hey, this party is getting lame. Lets go back to my place and get to know each other a little more, if you know what I mean."

Blaine, who was too drunk to know his left from his right, completely missed the underlying meaning of that statement and agreed, trying to stand up quickly and instead falling backwards. Sebastian caught him with a chuckle, leading him down the porch steps and across the yard toward the senior dorms. They had hardly made it ten feet before they heard a voice yell "Smythe, where the hell do you think you're taking him?"

Both men turned to find another, who had to be at least nineteen, standing at the edge of the grass with his arms folded across his chest and a scowl on his face. His light brown hair must have been styled at the beginning of the night, but was now matted with sweat and beginning to fall down across his forehead.

"I'm escorting Blaine here to a more, ah, private setting. Not that it's any of your business, Hummel. By the way, isn't it past your bedtime?" Sebastian sneered.

"You've always had a knack for fucking boys who are too drunk to remember their own name." As if to prove a point, Blaine suddenly removed himself from Sebastian's grasp and began to vomit profusely into the grass.

Sebastian made a face while the other man hurried over and squatted down next to Blaine, rubbing circles on his back and whispering "It's okay, get it all out, hon." Once Blaine could do no more than gag, he fell back into the boy, head resting on his shoulder and drenched in cold sweat.

"Ugh, there's nothing worse than a sloppy twink. He's all yours, Hummel." Sebastian said before turning on his heel and stalking off.

"I can't wait until you get an STD, Smythe. That will be the day I believe in God!" Hummel called after Sebastian.

Blaine moaned suddenly, turning to face his savior and muttering "thanks".

"No problem. Sebastian will get into bed with anything with a penis, I'm just glad I caught you two before it was two late. I'm Kurt, by the way."

"Blaine." Blaine muttered.

"Come on, Blaine, let's get you out of here. My dorm is right around the block, you can crash there."

* * *

Ten minutes and one brief moment, in which Blaine almost fell down a flight of stairs, later Kurt unlocked his bedroom door and led Blaine inside.

"My roommate is spending the night at his girlfriend's apartment, so you're welcome to sleep in his bed just as long as you don't throw up in it." Kurt said warmly, dragging the covers back and gesturing for Blaine to lie down. He moved the garbage can over to the side of the bed and pushed a water bottle into Blaine's hands.

"Drink this, it will help ease some of the pain of the hangover you're undoubtedly going to wake up with in the morning."

Blaine unscrewed the cap and chugged the bottle of water before leaning against the pillows and turning so that his body was facing Kurt, who was getting undressed for bed.

"You don't seem drunk at all." Blaine mused.

"That's because I don't drink." Kurt said with a smile.

"Thanks for everything, Kurt, really."

"Hey, it was no problem at all. I saw the way Sebastian was manhandling you all night during your epic beer pong tournament," Kurt replied with a roll of his eyes "and when you two suddenly disappeared I had a hunch that something you would regret tomorrow was about to happen."

There was silence while Kurt got settled into his own bed, adjusting himself and then propping himself up on his elbow to look at Blaine.

"How old are you anyway?" Blaine asked.

"I will be twenty in May. How about you?"

"I just turned twenty one in October."

"Well happy belated birthday to you. Twenty one and still doesn't know his limits." Kurt replied with a smirk.

"Hey! I hardly ever drink, it's not my fault!"

"No, you're right. It's the fault of whoever brought you to that party and then left you alone."

"That would be Mike Chang and Quinn Fabray. Do you know them?"

Kurt's eyes widened and then darkened before he scoffed and said, "Know them? I went to high school with them. It figures that they would leave you alone like that. What jackasses! I thought they had changed since we graduated."

"They're not that bad, I don't think they realized I would get quite that drunk." Blaine replied defensively.

"Yeah, they're really great friends." Kurt spat.

"What's your deal, Kurt?"

"Nothing, nothing. I'm tired, and you should be, too. Let's just go to sleep, okay?" Kurt said quickly before turning off the lamp on his bedside table and rolling over without another word.

It only took Blaine a few minutes to fall asleep, but not before he realized how badly he wanted to get up and cradle Kurt, and kiss away whatever made him hurt. He mentally slapped himself. After all, Kurt was a total stranger. _A total stranger who brought you home and let you sleep in his roommate's bed, no strings attached, _he thought before he drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine awoke the next morning to a splitting headache. He rolled over, keeping his eyes closed and groaned, pulling the pillow up over his head.

"About time, Blaine. I thought you were going to sleep the day away."

Blaine's eyes snapped open and he snatched the pillow off of his head and sat up, the room spinning for a few seconds as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight streaming through the window.

"Where am I?" he asked stupidly, rubbing his eyes and willing him not to throw up.

"Wow, you were even more drunk than I thought." Kurt said with a laugh.

Blaine whined, covering his ears and sinking back into his pillows.

"Okay, okay, no loud noises, I got it." Kurt responded. Blaine felt the edge of the bed sink and opened his eyes to find Kurt, a cup of coffee in his hands and a shy smile playing across his lips.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

Blaine reached for the coffee gratefully, taking a sip and letting the warmth wash through his body. Within a couple minutes he had downed the entire cup and handed it back to Kurt with a small smile.

"Thank you, Kurt."

"Ah, good, you remember my name. At least I don't have to explain why you're in my room, then."

Blaine rolled his eyes, swinging his legs off the bed and standing. Again, the room began to spin and he had to sit down once more.

"I think a shower and the greasiest food we can find is in order." Kurt said with a chuckle.

"That sounds fantastic."

Half an hour later Kurt and Blaine were heading for the nearest Chipotle. Blaine felt much more refreshed after his shower, which he had taken in less than ten minutes. Kurt, as he had come to find, took a lot longer to get ready.

"Does it always take you that long to do your hair and wash your face?" Blaine asked with a smile.

"It takes a lot of effort to look this good." Kurt scoffed, but winked as he bumped his hip against Blaine's. "I cannot believe you chose Chipotle of all places. Aren't you worried about the food baby you're bound to have afterwards?"

"Chipotle is delicious!" Blaine argued.

"It wasn't quite what I had in mind."

"What did you have in mind, then?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, "Oh, I don't know, real hangover food? I was thinking something along the lines of a burger? Something small and disgustingly greasy that would cure your hangover. Not a burrito filling enough to end world hunger."

"Well, it's my hangover," Blaine teased, "So it's my choice what kind of food I put into my poor, empty stomach."

"It's only empty because you vomited up an entire two day's worth of food." Kurt shot back.

Blaine laughed, "I'm surprised that much came out, considering I had hardly eaten in the last two days."

Kurt stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Blaine, "Why haven't you been eating?"

"I was cramming for midterms," Blaine said with a shrug, "I didn't do it on purpose."

Kurt gave a sigh of relief and continued walking, "Oh, well, you really need to learn how to balance your time, silly."

"Ah yes, every college student's worst trait." Blaine said with a laugh as they reached the entrance to Chipotle. Blaine opened the door and gestured for Kurt to walk in, saying, "After you, sir."

"Oh, what a gentleman." Kurt mocked.

Once they had paid for their food, the two found an empty table near the door and sat down, Blaine immediately diving into his steak burrito. Kurt played with his salad, watching Blaine intently.

"So, Blaine, what are you planning on doing with your life?" Kurt asked.

Blaine covered his mouth while chewing before swallowing and clearing his throat.

"Well, my parents want me to go to law school once I'm finished here. They want me to aim for Harvard, but I highly doubt that is going to happen."

"Why do you say that?"

Blaine sighed, "I don't think I'm Harvard material, to be honest."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Blaine." Kurt responded kindly.

Blaine watched Kurt poke at his salad, moving it around across the tin foil bowl, a small frown playing on his lips.

"Aren't you going to eat that?" Blaine questioned.

"I noticed you said your parents want you to go to law school, but what do you want?" Kurt responded quickly, effectively changing the subject.

Blaine let the matter go, instead churning over the question in his mind. What exactly were his dreams? Sure, he had _wanted_ to go to NYU to study music or maybe even teaching, but that was back in high school. He had changed since then, and apparently so had his dreams.

"I don't really know." Blaine said with a shrug.

"There must be something, Blaine."

"The dreams I had in high school seem silly to me now. Besides, my parents want me to be a lawyer, so that's what I have to do."

"Do you want to be a lawyer?" Kurt questioned.

Blaine leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes before staring at the ceiling. Did he? No, he knew those were his parents dreams, not his. He looked at Kurt for a minute before shaking his head sadly.

"My dad always told me 'it's not a career if you don't enjoy it, then it's just a job'," Kurt said matter-of-factly, "Blaine, if you keep doing what your parents expect you to do, don't you think you're going to end up resenting them down the line?"

Blaine laughed bitterly, "I've resented them for awhile now, Kurt. They've dictated my life for, well, basically the last twenty one years."

"You have to draw the line somewhere." Kurt argued.

"Yeah, well, I wish someone had told me that two years ago. It's too late to change my major now, and if I turn down law school my parents will kill me." Blaine sighed.

"What is your major anyway?" Kurt asked.

"Communications," Blaine said with a groan, "There are, like, no career paths in communications."

"Blaine," Kurt said with a laugh, "You clearly must not be looking hard enough. There are tons of careers one can acquire with a communications degree."

"Like what?" Blaine shot back.

"Like business, advertising, and education. Those are just a few of them, there are a lot more."

"Well, like I said, my parents will kill me if I don't go to law school." Blaine said, a tone of finality in his voice.

There were a few moments of silence in which Blaine downed the rest of his burrito and Kurt continued to poke at his salad, occasionally taking one or two small bites.

"What do law students even do for fun? Do they all get shitfaced to counteract with their rigorous work schedule?" Kurt asked finally.

"No time for that," Blaine responded through his last mouthful of burrito, balling up the tinfoil and taking a sip of his Mr. Pibb ("It's basically Dr. Pepper, Kurt, have you ever even _tasted_ Dr. Pepper?") before adding, "Besides, when I'm not cramming for an exam or writing a paper for one of my many composition classes, I'm usually sleeping."

Kurt stared at him, a smile playing across his lips, "Wow, you are _so_ boring!"

Blaine's mouth fell open at Kurt's words, but Kurt's smile was so infectious that Blaine could hardly take offense to his accusation.

"Hey! I'm not _that_ boring! I do fun things!"

"Oh yeah, like what?" Kurt said, now laughing.

"Well, the occasional party-"

"You call that fun? Blaine, do you even know what real fun is?"

Blaine stopped laughing at his words; smile quickly turning into a frown.

"No, I don't."

Kurt's smile faltered, eyes widening as they fell on Blaine's sad features.

"Wait, what?"

"Like I said, my parents have dictated my life for the last twenty one years. There was hardly any time for imagination and fun when there were so many subjects I needed to bone up on." Blaine couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Are you saying you've never had any type of fun?"

"No! I played sports growing up and I was in my high school's glee club. I had a lot of fun. I just wasn't allowed to pursue anything further."

Kurt stared at the table for a moment, in deep thought. Suddenly his eyes lit up and a smile reappeared on his face.

"What are your plans for spring break?"

"Well, I'm supposed to go home to see my parents-"

"Cancel them. Tell your parents something came up."

"Why?"

Kurt smiled brightly, a twinkle in his bright blue eyes, "I'm going to teach you what real fun is."

All Blaine could do was stare. He was certain his parents wouldn't mind if he stayed in New York, especially if he told them it had something to do with school. However, Blaine pondered over why he was already agreeing to Kurt's plan when he had just met the man last night. Blaine Anderson was not a very trusting person. Even Mike and Quinn didn't know that much about him, and they had been his friends for three years. Blaine could not explain to himself why he trusted a complete stranger, but as much as the situation confused Blaine, he wanted nothing more than to spend his spring break with Kurt. There was something captivating about this man, something Blaine could not put his finger on.

"That sounds wonderful, Kurt." Blaine replied, a smile stretching across his lips. After all, no one could bring a smile out of Blaine like Kurt could. What was there to lose?

The real question, Blaine would discover, was 'how much was there to gain'?

* * *

Blaine awoke suddenly on Monday morning to his phone ringing.

"Hello?" he croaked, voice still thick with sleep.

"It's almost noon, Blaine."

"K-Kurt?" Blaine yawned, rolling over to look at this alarm clock.

"Did you call your parents last night?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah, they didn't seem to mind about the cancellation. In fact, I didn't even need to make up an excuse, they just agreed." Blaine mumbled sleepily.

"That's good, because phase one of Operation Fun begins today." Kurt replied, and Blaine could practically hear the smile in his voice.

"I sure hope your 'fun ideas' are more creative than the name of your plan." Blaine snorted.

"Shut up, asshole, and get dressed. Preferably in clothes you don't mind getting dirty."

"Wait, what? What are we doing?"

"Meet me at my dorm as soon as possible! See you then!" There was a beep and Blaine glanced at his phone to find that Kurt had hung up.

"What am I getting myself into?" Blaine asked the empty room.

Forty-five later Blaine had just knocked on Kurt's door when it was thrown open to reveal Kurt himself, dressed in paint stained sweat pants and an old, paint stained t-shirt.

"Come in." Kurt sang, positively beaming.

"You look nice." Blaine said slowly. He wasn't teasing either; there was something about seeing Kurt underdressed that sent a shiver down Blaine's spine.

"Yeah, I know, not my usual attire, but I'd rather boil my head than ruin any of _those _clothes." Kurt replied with a shrug.

"I'm guessing we're painting today?"

"Oh, no, what tipped you off?" Kurt muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Aren't you, uh, going to come in?" he added.

Blaine suddenly realized he was still standing in the doorway, eyeballing Kurt like a horny schoolboy. He quickly cleared his throat, smiling nervously and unbuttoning his jacket. He had worn old jeans and a baggy old hoodie from high school.

"Dalton Academy, why does which sound so familiar?" Kurt asked, taking Blaine's jacket and folding it over a chair.

"It's a private school in Westerville Ohio, I went there for high school." Blaine responded, eyeing the canvases and paints on the ground and plopping down in front of them.

"No wonder it sounds so familiar! My glee club competed against you at regionals!" Kurt exclaimed sitting down crossed legged next to Blaine.

"No way! You're from Ohio, too?" Blaine responded excitedly.

"Yeah, I grew up in Lima. Not the greatest place on Earth, but at least I escaped." Kurt said with a smile.

"How did we compete against each other and not meet until now?"

"Oh, well, I was an entirely different person then. Not many people really noticed me, let alone someone like you." Kurt responded, then, realizing what he just said, let out a nervous laugh and added, "Enough small talk, lets begin, shall we?"

Blaine smirked as Kurt pulled a paper plate toward him and began squirting blobs of different colors onto it. He then pulled two blank canvases toward him, along with a few paintbrushes, which he held out to Blaine.

"Pick your favorite color." Kurt said with a smile.

Blaine chose a green one, running the soft tip over his fingers a few times. Kurt took a red one and put the rest aside as he dipped his brush into yellow paint and moved the plate of paint in between him and Blaine.

"Okay, now pick a color and paint whatever comes to mind first." Kurt instructed.

"Er, that sounds a bit difficult." Blaine said nervously.

"Blaine, these aren't going in an art galley, this is just a _safer _way to release emotions. Don't think about it, just start painting, and whether it's of something, someone, or you just want to mix a bunch of colors together, it doesn't matter, because it's _your_ artwork."

Blaine watched as Kurt set to work, hunched over his canvas with his tongue between his teeth. Blaine stared at his own canvas before dipping his brush in blue paint and beginning to run it over the canvas carelessly. He had to admit; once he got started he felt his entire demeanor relax. For an hour the two worked side by side, occasionally stealing glances at one another's work and giggling whenever they would make eye contact.

Finally Kurt sat up, hands covered in paint from where he had used his fingers to perfect smaller details, a smile on his face. Blaine glanced over and let out an audible gasp.

"Kurt, it's beautiful."

Under the bright, blue sky that reminded Blaine of his eyes, Kurt had painted a yellow slide; complete with wood chips surrounding it and a swing set in the background.

"It's not my best work," Kurt admitted sheepishly, "but it's where my mom used to take me when I was a kid. Well, before she got sick."

Blaine felt a pang of sadness as he looked over Kurt's sad smile, and could clearly see the hurt in his eyes.

"Did she ever get better?" Blaine asked quietly.

"No, she died when I was eight." Kurt whispered. His eyes seemed to glisten for a minute before he sniffled and wiped them on his sleeve.

"Lets see your picture, Picasso." He says brightly, though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

Blaine glances down at his painting, which is just a mess of colors covering almost the entire canvas along with two poorly painted hands slipping apart in the middle.

"I wasn't really thinking, I was just painting." Blaine explains hurriedly.

Kurt cocks his head as he looks over the painting.

"I love it. Whose hands are those supposed to be?"

"No one in particular." Blaine answers quietly.

Kurt got up and busied himself in the built in kitchen.

"Do you mind peanut butter and jelly?" Kurt called over his shoulder.

"Nope, I love it, actually." Blaine called back.

He continued to get out the essentials, toasting the bread first before adding the rest of the ingredients. He then pulled out two glasses and filled each with milk before walking back over and handing them to Blaine, resuming his position on the ground. The two ate in silence, stealing glances and giving each other shy smiles. Once they had finished, Kurt pulled out his phone to find that it was almost four o'clock.

"Shit, I still have to go grocery shopping." He muttered to himself.

Blaine took it upon himself to clean up, putting the dirty plates and glasses in the sink and running the water as Kurt rushed around, cleaning up the paint supplies. After he was finished, he walked over to Blaine who was leaning on the counter.

"Well, do you feel any better?"

Blaine thought for a minute before turning to smile at Kurt. "Yeah, I do."

"Good, then phase one was a success, but the day is not yet over."

"What else do you have in mind?" Blaine questioned.

"I suggest you go home and shower, put some nicer clothes on."

"Why, where are we going?" Blaine asked skeptically.

"No need for questions, just make sure you have some money." Kurt said with a smile.

"Kurt-"Blaine protested.

"Get out of my dorm, mister, and I'll pick you up around eight." Kurt replied, handing him his jacket and giving him a quick, one armed hug before opening the door to let Blaine out. Blaine walked back to his dorm with a smile on his face, feeling at home in New York for the first time in three years.

* * *

At seven forty-five there was a knock on Blaine's door. Blaine opened it to find Kurt, dressed today in tight, black pants, a purple button down, and a black cardigan with his hair styled up as usual. It took all of Blaine's willpower not to stare as he smiled at Kurt.

"Good evening, sir." Blaine said.

"Good evening to you, too, _sir_." Kurt responded with a laugh.

The two men stared at one another for a few more seconds, each taking in the others appearances before Kurt cleared his throat and said, "Well, shall we go then?"

Blaine grabbed his coat and followed Kurt down the hallway toward the elevators.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" Blaine asked, jogging to keep up with Kurt as they made their way down the block.

"That would ruin the surprise!" Kurt said, smacking Blaine's arm as they rounded a corner.

One subway right later Blaine found himself outside of Karaoke Cave, a karaoke bar well known by NYU students.

"A karaoke bar, really?" Blaine said, turning to Kurt and staring at him with wide eyes.

"You were in the glee club at Dalton, so I know you can sing." Kurt argued.

"I was the lead soloist actually." Blaine mumbled.

"Then this shouldn't be a problem." Kurt said with a tone of finality.

"How are you planning on getting in there? You're not even twenty one." Blaine shot back.

From his wallet Kurt pulled out an I.D and showed it to Blaine.

"Marty Walsh, twenty two years old, originally from Arizona, pleased to make your acquaintance." Kurt replied with a laugh.

Blaine rolled his eyes and led the way inside the crowded bar, showing security his I.D. and watching as Kurt did the same without a problem. He began heading for the bar until Kurt grabbed his arm, swinging him around and yelling over the drunk blonde screeching her way through Fighter by Christina Aguilera.

"Ah ah ah, this is a sober week, remember?"

Blaine rolled his eyes and followed Kurt to an empty table as the last few cords of the song died out.

"Go up there and sing." Kurt whispered in Blaine's ear.

"Are you kidding me?" Blaine exclaimed.

"No arguments. I want you to go up there and choose a song that speaks to you. Hop to it, Anderson." Kurt yelled back, a smirk playing across his lips.

Blaine groaned, but didn't argue, instead getting up and making his way toward the stage. He glanced through the song selection, choosing one and moving toward the microphone.

He looked right at Kurt as he began to sing, not even bothering to look at the screen.

_As I walk through the streets of my new city__  
my back feeling much better, I suppose  
I've reclaimed the use of my imagination  
for better or for worse, I've yet to know_

Blaine didn't really understand why he had chosen it, but as he sang his parents, his brother, and Kurt flooded his mind, each lyric pertaining to a different person.

_All the tree tops turning red__  
The beggars near bodegas grin at me  
I think they want something  
I close my eyes, I tell myself to breathe_

and be calm.  
Be calm.  
I know you feel like you are breaking down.  
I know that it gets so hard sometimes.  
Be calm.

The anger and resentment toward his family flooded through him as he got more and more into the song, closing his eyes and letting the crowd dissolve.

_Take it from me, I've been there a thousand times.__  
You hate your pulse because it thinks you're still alive  
and everything's wrong  
It just gets so hard sometimes  
Be calm._

Blaine sensed that there was more to Kurt, that the front Kurt put up was there to shield Blaine and the rest of the world from something deeper. He looked to Kurt in the audience and found him gaping at him, open mouthed, with tears in his eyes. As the final cords died down, Blaine stepped back from the microphone, the room beginning to applaud wildly as he walked down the steps and found his way back to Kurt.

"What did you think?" he asked loudly as he sat down.

For a minute Kurt just stared into Blaine's eyes, searching for something there before turning his head and saying "That was wonderful, Blaine. Your voice is fantastic."

And that was that. The rest of the night found Kurt and Blaine judging the different singers, most of whom were so drunk at this point that they could hardly sing.

At a quarter to twelve, Kurt asked Blaine if they could leave, and Blaine obliged. As the two walked back to the subway together, hands buried deep in their pockets, Kurt asked "Why did you choose that song?"

Blaine looked over at Kurt, who was staring at the ground.

"I chose it for a lot of reasons, but mostly because I need a reminder now and then." Blaine answered simply.

Kurt nodded, smiling a bit as he and Blaine boarded the train.

Once they were outside of Kurt's dorm, he turned to Blaine with a bright smile on his face as he pulled Blaine in for a hug.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Kurt said as he pulled away.

"Should I even bother to ask what we're doing?"

"Goodnight, Blaine." He said with a laugh as he walked through the doors without a second glance.

As Blaine walked back to his dorm, he couldn't help but wonder what exactly Kurt had to hide.


End file.
